Lullabye and Other Tales of Baby Watson
by MizJoely
Summary: A series of drabbles based on prompts about Sherlock and Baby Watson. Warstan and Sherlolly!
1. Lullabye

_(tumblr promopt) anonymous asked: Imagine Sherlock Holmes composing a lullaby for Baby Watson.^_^_

* * *

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"Composing, Mycroft, isn't it obvious?"

"Hmm, I suppose, but it it isn't really your area, is it, such a sentimental ditty?"

"It's for a baby, Mycroft, I believe sentiment is an unavoidable component."

"Children are horrid, smelly little larvae, brother dear, until they reach the age of reason…and even then they….urk!"

Mycroft stopped speaking, not because he had nothing further to say, but because his younger brother had calmly reached down and thrown a pillow at his face. Mycroft batted the offending item away and shot Sherlock a disdainful look. "Fine, I'm sure your goddaughter will be brilliant once she learns to do more than take in sustenance and poop herself."

Sherlock's smile was far softer than normal as he picked up his violin and bow and began playing again. "Yes, she will, Mycroft; if you managed it, then I'm sure Isabelle will have no problems."

Then he lost himself in the tune he was composing, utterly ignoring his brother's sputtered protests.


	2. Future Plans

_anonymous__ asked: Will you do more Sherlock and Baby Watson bonding fics? I just love how much your Sherlock loves her. ^_^_

* * *

"Aww, she's absolutely adorable, Sherlock!"

He sniffed and cuddled his goddaughter closer. "Of course she is, Mrs. Hudson, have you not seen her parents? Thankfully she was blessed with Mary's eyes and haircolor, but her chin is quite definitely John's. Don't you agree, Molly?"

His girlfriend smiled and held out a finger for Isabelle to grasp, giggling as the baby lifted it to her mouth and gummed it. "Oh, sweetie, you are going to be spoiled rotten by Uncle Sherlock, aren't you? Yes you are!"

He rolled his eyes and scowled at her, although with less force than usual. "I am not her uncle, Molly, I'm her godfather," he reminded her with a sound very like a sniff. Molly and Mrs. Hudson exchanged tolerant grins as he gazed down at Isabelle, who was still gumming Molly's finger, her big blue eyes gazing up at him solemnly. "Just as you are her godmother. I take my responsibilities toward her seriously, which means I have no intentions of ever 'spoiling' her. When she accompanies me on her first case…"

"Oh, Sherlock, you can't mean to tell me you're already planning on bringing this sweet little darling to a murder scene!" Mrs. Hudson protested, clucking her tongue and shaking her head.

It was Molly and Sherlock's turn to exchange tolerant glances; how, they both wondered, would Mrs. Hudson react if they told her that Mary had already given permission for her daughter to come along with Daddy and her godfather on cases below a 5…but only after she was old enough to walk and talk?


	3. Diagnosis

_anonymous asked: Baby Watson gets sick and Sherlock tries to diagnose her._

* * *

"Scarlet fever."

John sighed and palmed his face. "No, Sherlock, I already told you, she doesn't have the right symptoms for scarlet fever. Mary and I are taking Isabelle to the paediatrician in the morning, so please for the love of God take Molly and go back home. We can handle it."

Sherlock had dragged Molly out of bed and over to the Watson home after John had casually mentioned, during the course of a conversation about a case, that Isabelle was running a fever.

Sherlock scowled at his friend and held his goddaughter closer to his chest in a protective motion. "I'm telling you it's scarlet fever, John, and you need to get her on antibiotics as soon as possible. Waiting until the morning is a ridiculous waste of time. Why make Izzy suffer for one second longer than she has to? Yes, the paracetamol is holding the fever down, but the other sym…what?" he asked, looking around in puzzlement as he realized the other adults in the room were staring at him.

"You called her 'Izzy', Sherlock," Molly explained from her seat on the sofa next to Mary. The two of them wore matching grins. "You said nicknames were ridiculous and explained to us in great detail why you weren't going to ever use one, and yet just now you called your goddaughter 'Izzy' instead of Isabelle."

Sherlock looked flustered, then straightened his posture and looked down his nose at the three grinning — yes, John had joined in the idiotic smirk brigade — people sharing the room. "Regardless of what I call her, my goddaughter is in need of proper medication. Considering that I am the only non-medical professional in this room, I am frankly astonished that I am also the only one exhibiting any measure of concern for Iz…Isabelle's condition." Nose in the air, he marched out of the living room and into the kitchen.

Mary, John and Molly exchanged glances, then burst into laughter. A half hour later Sherlock finally deigned to rejoin them, silently showing John and Mary the rosy red rash spread across Isabelle's tiny chest. Of course he was right, the great git, John thought sourly as he threw on his coat and readied the car for the trip the A&E.

But it wouldn't surprise him at all if Izzy had developed the rash just to prove her beloved godfather right.


	4. Colic

_From MorbidbyDefault on : Oh my gosh! I love it! Okay…story idea? Little Isabelle is Colicky, and Sherlock is the one babysitting her at the time, so he turns to Molly for help because he doesn't know what to do and is super worried and adorably out of his element. Just an idea, if you wanted more for this adorable set._

_Two sick Baby Isabelle prompts in a row, poor little thing! Well, here goes…_

* * *

"Sherlock? You sounded worried when you left the message, so I came as soon as I got out of work. What's wrong?" Molly dropped her handbag on the coffee table and hurried over to where her boyfriend was sitting in his chair, cuddling baby Isabelle to his chest. The six-month-old was sleeping peacefully, her little rosebud mouth partially open and her long, dark blonde lashes fluttering now and then.

It was an adorable sight, or would have been if not for the unhappy frown on Sherlock's face. "I need you to take her from me, Molly, very carefully, and be sure to keep the front of her body, especially her abdomen, snugly against you," he instructed.

Molly obediently held her arms out, wondering what was wrong, but Sherlock made no move to release his sleeping bundle. "Um, Sherlock, I can't take her if you don't give her to me."

Sherlock's scowl deepened. "I'm afraid you'll have to do your best to extricate her, Molly, as I am currently unable to move my arms."

The pathologist felt her eyebrows raising. "Really? What happened?"

"I left that message for you over an hour ago, Molly, and I've been holding Isabelle — who appears to have developed a rather nasty case of colic conveniently when her parents are both out of town, I might add — ever since. It's the only thing I can do to keep her from screaming."

"So your arms have cramped up, have they?" Molly asked, sympathy and an inappropriate urge to giggle fighting for dominance on her lips. She managed to settle for a sympathetic smile — ever one to believe in the art of compromise! — before moving closer and literally prying Izzy from her godfather's arms. The baby squirmed and made a discontented sound, but thankfully remained asleep during the exchange. Molly soon found herself comfortably ensconced in the corner of the sofa, snuggling her goddaughter to her chest while her disgruntled boyfriend rose stiffly to his feet and began the uncomfortable process of uncramping his arms.

As soon as he was able to move freely, Molly watched him grab his laptop, set it on the desk, and immediately begin scanning the internet for suggestions on how to soothe a colicky baby.

"Oh, Izzy," Molly murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the baby's downy blonde hair, "everyone thought I would be the one to domesticate Sherlock, but it looks like you've beaten me to the punch baby girl." She gave her head another soft kiss before whispering, "Remind me to thank you when you're older."


	5. Hobbit Part 1

_anonymous__ asked: To make up for sick Baby Watson twice in row. Baby Watson loves it when her Godfather reads to her. Her favorite story is "The Hobbit" ._

_Um, this got a bit more Sherlolly this time. Sorry-not-sorry! Also, this has turned into a two-parter. Here is part 1._

* * *

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort."

Molly leaned against the door jamb, smiling fondly at the sight — and almost as good, sound — of Sherock reading aloud to their goddaughter from her favorite book. He'd read it to her countless times over the past year, and it never failed to soothe her even at her crankiest. Every time the pair of them babysat, she would toddle over to the bookshelf and tug out the dog-eared paperback, carry it over to Sherlock, and attempt to clamber into his lap without putting the beloved story down. It was adorably domestic, and Molly knew Sherlock enjoyed it even if all he did was complain loudly that Isabelle wouldn't let him read anything else to her.

As Sherlock continued on with the adventures of Bilbo Baggins and his unexpected party — muttering comments about him being just about Isabelle's father's height — Molly turned and made her ungainly way to the kitchen, where she'd been about to put on the kettle for tea before being distracted by her fiance's lovely voice. She rubbed a soothing hand across her greatly expanded stomach as one of the twins chose that moment to kick her.

"Hush, lovies, Daddy will be reading that story to you two soon enough," she murmured. As if in response to her voice, the restless movement stopped, and she sighed happily. She loved being a godmother and she looked forward to being a real mother as well, and many, many years of listening to Sherlock read "The Hobbit" aloud.

Even if he never would stop making snide comments about John's supposed resemblance to the main character.


	6. Hobbit Part 2

_anonymous asked: Baby Watson loves it when her godfather reads to her. Her favorite is " The Hobbit" Sherlock does a fantastic Smaug.;-)_

* * *

"Do the voice again, Uncle Sherlock!"

"Yeah, Daddy, do the boice!"

"Please, Daddy, the boice! Dwagon!"

Sherlock looked helplessly at the three eager faces staring up at him, then over at his wife, who merely grinned and then had the temerity to giggle. "Sorry, Sherlock, you're the one who decided to make the dragon all growly. You can't blame them for loving it!"

Then his wife had the infernal nerve to turn and leave him alone with the three small beggars, who had resorted to physically tugging at his dressing gown in order to catch his attention. His goddaughter, three-year-old Isabelle Watson, batted her baby blues at him, while his own eighteen-month-old twins, Scarlett and Edmund, babbled incomprehensibly and simultaneously.

Knowing when he was defeated — a feeling he'd never owned up to until becoming first a godfather and then a parent — Sherlock sighed and flopped down in his chair, flipping a hand toward the bookshelf. "You know where it is, Isabelle," he said, and his goddaughter, chortling happily, scampered off to collect the well-worn paperback while Scarlett and Edmund clambered up onto his lap.

Never again, he vowed, would he ever read a story in anything but his everyday voice.


	7. Ice Cream

**tumblr anonymous** asked: Izzy has vanilla ice cream with her godfather. Her treat.^_^

* * *

"Sherlock! What are you doing?"

He gave his girlfriend a quizzical look. "Feeding Isabelle ice cream, Molly, what does it look like I'm doing?"

"But John and Mary don't want her having sugar yet! For heaven's sake, Sherlock, she's only eight months old!"

He rolled his eyes and fed the eager baby another tiny spoonful of the icy treat. "It's just vanilla, Molly. All natural ingredients. And it's hardly going to affect her teeth, since she doesn't have that many yet."

Molly huffed and snatched the bowl away from him before he could stop her."No more, Sherlock, you spoil her enough as it is!"

He gave Molly a sideways glance and a smirk that told her he had deduced something. "What?" she asked, feeling defensive. While she tried to figure out what it was he was about to tell her, she stuck a finger in the ice cream and scooped up a hefty amount, then popped it in her mouth. Isabelle watched, her big blue eyes wide and a happy grin on her (still mostly toothless) mouth.

"You hate vanilla ice cream," Sherlock pronounced, giving Isabelle an equally wide grin and bopping her on the nose. "You owe me a fiver, Izzy. I told you Aunt Molly was pregnant!"

Baby Watson watched solemnly from her high chair as Sherlock hurried over to pick Molly up from where she'd collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. Her wrinkled nose seemed to say, 'Nice job, Uncle Sherlock, you should know better!'


	8. Birthday

**Tumblr anonymous**** asked: ****Baby Watson's Birthday! ^_^**

* * *

"She's old enough now, I assume?"

Molly gave Sherlock a quizzical glance. "Old enough for what?"

Sherlock answering grin was sly. "Ice cream. It's her first birthday, surely John and Mary can't object to ice cream today of all days!"

Molly sighed and swatted him lightly on the arm. "You'll never forget that whole ice cream thing, will you."

"Nope," Sherlock replied, popping the "p" and pulling her into a one-armed side-hug (the other arm being occupied by their goddaughter). "How could I possibly forget the day we confirmed that we're going to be parents ourselves?"

"Of twins," Molly reminded him, while Izzy bounced excitedly and crowed, "Babeez! Babeez!"

Sherlock gave Izzy a mock scowl. "There's no need for you to be so excited, Isabelle Watson, they're going to be my and Molly's babies, not yours."

Instantly the sunny smile vanished from her face; Izzy's eyes clouded up and fat tears began rolling down her cheeks as she broke into an unhappy wail. As Sherlock tried to calm her, John came hurrying up. As soon as she saw her father, Izzy toppled into his waiting arms, still crying loudly.

"Nice one, Sherlock, making Baby cry on her birthday," John said angrily. He bounced his daughter and snuggled her close. "Shh, honey, what's wrong?'

Izzy turned and pointed directly at Molly's barely-there four-months baby bump. "My babeez!" she wailed. "Unca Lock said no! MY BABEEZ!" she screeched, all three grown-up wincing at the volume she managed in spite of her tiny size.

As John carried her out of the living room in search of Mary, the only one who could calm her down when she got overworked like this (shooting a very dirty look at his former flatmate as he did so), Molly sighed and rested her head against Sherlock's shoulder. "Oh, Sherlock, you really are going to have to learn to share."

"But they ARE our babies," he mumbled in protest.

Molly got up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. "And Isabelle is John and Mary's baby, but they share her with you, you daft man. Fair if fair." Then she, too, left the room, following the sound of Izzy's wails to see if there was anything she could do to help, leaving Sherlock to shake his head and wonder when, exactly, his life had so entirely left his control.


	9. Jealous

_anonymous asked: How about Izzy is jealous of the Sherlolly child because s/he will take away her Uncle Sherlock? Of course she is reassured that just because a baby is here doesn't mean Sherlock doesn't adore his Izzy._

_A/N: Sorry for making Baby Watson cry in two stories in a row! :(_

* * *

The day Scarlett and Edmund came home from hospital, John and Mary brought Isabelle to meet them. She was nearly 18 months old now and had been impatient for her "babeez" to arrive. Now that they were here, however, she was less than impressed. Especially since John held her up to see them just as Edmund filled his diaper.

Izzy leaned back in her daddy's arms and wrinkled her little nose. "Ewwww," she said. "Babeez smell."

Mary volunteered to take care of the problem while Sherlock lifted Scarlett into his arms and carried her into the living room to allow his goddaughter a better look at the twin who hadn't chosen the moment guests arrived to demonstrate her ability to fill a diaper. Izzy sat on John's lap and stared down at the tiny figure cradled so protectively in her father's arms. Then she looked up at Sherlock, who was looking down at Scarlett with a tender smile on his face, and promptly burst into tears.

"Oh, Baby, what's wrong?" John asked as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and clutched desperately at his jumper.

"Babeez take my Lock away!" Izzy howled. "Gif em back, Unca Lock! You mine!" She looked beseechingly at him, her blue eyes large and watery, and he couldn't help smiling at the turnaround from her birthday five months earlier.

Careful not to jostle Scarlett too much (who thankfully had not joined in when Izzy started crying), he switched her over to John and took his goddaughter into his arms, hugging her tightly. "Don't worry, Izzy," he whispered as she snuffled damply against his shoulder. "There's more than enough of me to go around, I promise." Then he kissed the top of her head and said even more quietly, "It took me a long time to realize this, Izzy, but love only grows the more you give."

She didn't look as if she knew quite what he meant, so he translated, "I love my Izzy. Never doubt me. Does Unca Lock lie?" She shook her head. "No, I don't." John made a sound suspicously like a snort at that statement, causing Sherlock to modify it a bit: "Not you, Isabelle Elaine Waton. So when I say I love the babies and I love you just as much, you have to believe me. Right?"

Izzy nodded solemnly. "Wight," she warbled, tears forgotten as she gave Sherlock a noisy wet baby kiss on the cheek. He pulled a face but endured, just as he endured John's muttered, "Wish I had a hand free to take a picture."

A flash of light caught their attention, and they both looked up in time to see Molly smirking, her phone still held out. "Don't worry, John, I got it!"

And she giggled all the way back to the kitchen, where she proceeded to show it to a beaming Mary


	10. First Case Part 1

_Tumblr anon: Baby Watson's First Case_

* * *

It was a bright, cheerful red. Not pink, not yellow; there were no cartoon characters on it, or flowers, or cute baby animals.

It was red. Solid, blindingly bright, red.

"You'll never lose track of it," Molly pronounced as the gift was unwrapped.

Mary blinked. "True enough." She seemed mesemerized by the small case Sherlock had bought for Izzy's second birthday.

She and Molly both looked carefully to see what the toddler in question thought of the unusual gift; she was staring just as hard as her mother and Aunt Molly had been, but the expression on her face was one of pure joy as she turned and hurled herself into 'Unca Lock's' arms. "Thank you! she shrieked at the top of her lungs, causing every adult in the room — John, Mary, Sherlock and Molly — to wince. Molly spared a worried glance at the baby monitor, relieved when not even a peep came out to indicate Izzy had woken the napping twins.

Afterwards, when she and Sherlock had said good-bye to the Watsons, she gave her husband a quizzical look. "Why a suitcase, Sherlock? John and Mary insist they have no plans to travel anytime soon."

Sherlock shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? She's outgrowing the need for a diaper bag, and spends at least three nigths a month here, so she needs a case to keep her belongings in."

"And why the bright red?" Molly asked, knowing there had to be more to it than that.

Sherlock gave her a sheepish look before pulling her to him for a warm hug. "Well," he mumbled, "she might have seen it at Harrods when I took her there the other day."

Molly pulled back and gave him a suspicious look. "The other day? When you volunteered to take Izzy for a walk to the park? You went to Harrods? Why?"

The sheepish look turned entirely guilty and Molly thought she heard him say someting about the case only being a two before she swatted him on the arm and proceeded to harrangue him for taking Izzy on a case without John as he'd long since promised.

Mary and John were going to get an earful just as soon as she saw them again…and then Sherlock would be the one getting the earful.

Yes, Izzy was walking and talking, but honestly, she was only half-way potty trained!


	11. First Case Part 2

_(Follow up to "First Case" and loosely based on this tumblr prompt: Izzy's first case...She seems to have learned a lot from her godfather.)_

* * *

"Sherlock."

"Hmm?"

"You took my daughter on a case."

"It was barely a…"

"I don't care what it bloody was!" John roared into the phone. "You know the deal, and you broke it. You know what that means."

Silence on the other end of the phone for a long moment, then a quiet, tentative, "No babysitting for a month?"

"Two months," John corrected him grimly. "Mary says she'll be fully potty trained by then, Mrs. Hudson agrees, so after that maybe…just maybe…you'll be trusted with her again."

"Well, it doesn't seem fair to punish Molly for my mistake," Sherlock said cajolingly, but John was having none of it.

"Don't you dare try and use your girlfriend to work your way around this, William Sherlock Scott Holmes," John declared, and by the use of his full name Sherlock knew he wasn't going to win this one. Sometimes he regretted sharing it with John; he should have left it at Molly and his brother and parents being the only holders of that secret. "And don't think Mary and I won't see right through it if you send her round to offer to watch Izzy for a few hours, either. God," he muttered with a huff, "it's bad enough Izzy's already trying your methods…"

"She is?" Sherlock's ears perked up at that statement, and he completely ignored the irritation in John's voice as he asked eagerly, "What? What's she trying? She's a natural at this, John, I told you she would be. People don't look twice a man carrying a baby; who would be daft enough to follow someone under those circumstances? And Izzy, oh you should have seen her, John! Smiling and giggling and generally charming anyone we met…"

He fell silent as soon as he realized his mistake. "Uh, that is, what I meant to say was, that the next time, when you go along with us — every other time in future, that is, since I clearly will never take her along on a case without you even if it's only a one…"

"Yeah," came John's exasperated voice from the other side of the line. "You got that right, mate." But Sherlock heard the affection as well as the less pleasant emotions and knew that his two months was more likely to be a month…possibly even less if Molly could talk Mary round.

Izzy, he knew, would be on his side. Unca Lock would be left in charge of her again soon enough, and both of them would continue to learn from one another. The sooner, he concluded, the better.

He smiled and hung up the phone, not noticing that John was still talking as he did so. "Molly!" he called out, looking vaguely around the empty living room. "Fancy a trip to John and Mary's for a visit?"


	12. Teasing

_Review of "Ice Cream" by Nightstar Phoenix): And thank you, Baby Watson, for channeling everyone's reaction to the King of Tact XD (Oh she is gonna be a JOY in her teen years. - I hope you caught that sarcasm.) If you need ideas, I'd love to see Sherlock smart off to the Scotland Yarders after they tease him about spoiling Izzy :D You do a great job with this!_

_A/N: Thanks, and hope I did this justice!_

* * *

"She can't understand you, you do know that, right? I mean, she's only six months old, Sherlock."

The consulting detective grimaced at Lestrade's teasing words and shifted Isabelle into a more comfortable position on his left him. "Ignore him," he instructed the baby, who was looking wide-eyed around the DI's office. "Graham..."

"Greg," came the disgruntled correction.

"Greg," Sherlock continue smoothly as he continued speaking the infant, who seemed enraptured by his words, her eyes wide and gazing straight into his, "is under the mistaken impression that you will retain nothing of what I say to you now, when studies have shown..."

"Why the Watsons ever let you out of their sight with their baby I will never understand," came the exasperated tones of Sally Donovan from the office door. "Honestly, Greg, a baby? Here? With HIM?" She'd stopped calling Sherlock 'Freak' ever since his faked suicide, but she still held no great love for the man and what she termed his crime scene theatrics...although she'd grudgingly apologized to him for inadvertantly helping Moriarty destroy his reputation.

Sherlock sniffed and looked down his nose at Sally, who (for the record) looked entirely unimpressed. "As I was just explaning to Gray..."

"Greg!"

"To GREG, here, Isabelle will be assisting me with cases when she's older, and needs to become comfortable even in the most insalubrious environments. Starting here."

His haughty demeanor was promptly destroyed, however, by the appearance of his girlfriend in the doorway, holding aloft a small bag of the sugar free ice lollies Mary had deemed acceptable for the teething infant to have. "Got em, Sherlock! Wow, it took forever to find this brand, had to go to three different shops, I hope you know! And these cost twice as much as the regular ones...Oh, Hi!" she added, belatedly taking in the sight of Donovan and Lestrade.

The two detectives turned to Sherlock with raised eyebrows and identical grins. "Spoiling her already, are you?" Sally asked. "Gotta have her special lollies, the regular ones aren't good enough for her?"

Lestrade chose to join in the fun, smirking as he added, "Yeah, I mean, nothing but the best for Sherlock Holmes' goddaughter, right?"

Without missing a beat, Sherlock replied, "At least you can make an elementary deduction now. Good to know Isabelle is as good at teaching basic detective skills as she is at, oh, everything else she does. And if you're very lucky," he added, striding to the door and collecting both his girlfriend and the bag of lollies, "maybe one day you'll even be as good at it as she is."


	13. Hiding

_Review/prompt by MorbidbyDefault ( ): lol aww! Great chapters, love. Hm...heard a story from my boss about his oldest (about Izzy's age) getting used to their newest baby. Prompt: Izzy doesn't like having to fight babies for attention, and decides to try and hide them._

* * *

"All right, Izzy, where are they?"

"Where who, Unca Lock?"

"You know exactly who I mean. Do you want to make Aunt Molly sad?"

Isabelle Watson, aged two, shook her head. "No Aunt Molly sad!"

Sherlock dropped to his haunches and looked his goddaughter straight in the eyes. "Then be a good girl and tell me where you hid them. If we put them back right now, before Aunt Molly and Mummy and Daddy get back from the shops, I promise not to tell what you did."

Izzy's eyes shifted to the right, exactly where Sherlock knew she would look, and he gave her a small smile as he said, "Thank you, Izzy. Now, no more hiding the babies, all right? I already told you I love you no matter what." He rose to his feet and opened the wardrobe door, where he found his six month old twins still sleeping peacefully, curled up on the blankets from their now-open – and empty – cot. It was remarkable that Isabelle had been able to figure out the mechanism to lower the side, but of course she was of superior intelligence.

"Unca Lock no lie Izzy?"

As he carefully lifted Scarlett into his arms, Sherlock made sure to look his goddaughter right in her anxious blue eyes. "Unca Lock no lie Izzy," he affirmed solemnly, privately relieved that none of the other adults were around to hear him speaking baby talk. But that wasn't a time to correct Isabelle's grammar, it was a time to reassure her that he still loved her, even if the babies took up a great deal of his time and attention now. He laid Scarlett down, then fetched the noisily snoring Edmund and laid him down as well and lifted the side of the cot, carefully locking it back in place.

Making a mental note to find a way to secure it that Isabelle couldn't figure out, he lifted the toddler into his arms and carried her out of the room.

When John, Mary and Molly returned from their trip to the shops – and to fetch dinner – they found a dark, quiet flat, with the twins sleeping in their cot and Isabelle snuggled in Sherlock's arms on the sofa.


	14. Zoo

_Anonymous asked: Sherlock and Mary taking Baby Watson to aquarium and she loves the otters because they remind her of "Uncle Sherlock" She says this out loud. Molly giggles and Sherlock protests. Molly giggles harder._

* * *

Scarlett and Edmund were supremely unimpressed with the zoo, but Isabelle was bouncing with excitement. She had just turned three and the twins were almost two, so the excusion had been planned as birthday outing for both the Holmes and the Watson familes to enjoy. Unfortunately an emergency at the clinic had kept John and Mary from joining them, but Molly and Sherlock had assured their friends that it would be no trouble to take the three toddlers by themselves.

Luckily Scarlett and Edmund's boredom had resulted in them falling asleep in their double-stroller, so that reassurance actually turned out to be true.

They had made their way from exhibit to exhibit in relative peace, with Izzy holding tighty to Unca Lock's hand while Auntie Molly maneuvered the stroller with her usual expertise. The five of them came to a stop in front of the otter exhibit, Izzy begging Unca Lock to pick her up so she could see better. The enclosure was half aquarium, and they had prime positions in front of the clear glass tank where half a dozen otters were currently cavorting.

Izzy chuckled and clapped her hands, pointing at one otter in particular that was making lazy figure eights in front of them, as if entertaining the young human was his only goal in life. He made a face that reminded Molly of her husband in a particularly thoughtful mood, and apparently Izzy agreed because she giggled and said, "Look, Unca Lock! He in his mind place, just like you do!"

Sherlock pulled a sour face; the otter paused in his underwater perambulations to swim closer to the glass, and Molly could have sworn the creature made the exact same face. She stifled a giggle of her own, but couldn't hold it in when Izzy tilted her head up to study her godfather, then looked back at the sleek, brown-furred animal who now had his paws raised up under his chin. "Yeah, he you, Unca Lock," Izzy pronounced, causing Sherlock to give her the modified version of his patented 'glare of annoyance' that he'd learned to tone down where the children were concerned.

"No, Isabelle, he does not. He is an otter, and I am a human being. We look nothing like one another excepting the fact that we have two eyes, two ears, a nose and a mouth," he said.

Izzy frowned and looked back, but the otter had swum away. Molly, however, had been tracking its movements and guided the pair of them to where it was now perched on a rock, grooming itself. "I dunno, Sherlock, it does bear a striking resemblance to you in one of your blacker moods," she murmured, smirking as he turned an outraged glare at her.

Izzy bounced in his arms and pointed at the otter as it flopped on its back, its head resting on the downward slope of the rock and all four paws splayed out. "Unca Lock take a nap onna sofa!" Izzy crowed, and Molly could hold it in no longer. She burst into laughter, and Izzy joined her. The more aloof and disapproving Sherlock looked, the harder his wife and goddaughter laughed…especially when the otter rolled onto its side and squinted at them as if it, too, disapproved of the comparison.

The merriment at Unca Lock's expense only ended when the twins finally woke up, cranky and demanding ice cream.

Their expressions were nearly as grumpy as that of their father — and the otter, who finally turned his back on them as if disgusted by the foolishness of humans and waddled off to the sleeping area.


	15. Gimme

_tumblr anonymous asked: Yay! You had Sgt. Sally Donavon. I'm glad you had her stop calling Sherlock a freak. Can we have Izzy charming Sgt. Donavon? She seems to have a soft spot for kids._

* * *

"She's cute."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he cradled his goddaughter easily in one arm while he tapped away on his mobile with the other hand. "Of course she is. All babies are designed to appeal to adult…"

Sally rolled her eyes. "Yeah, don't need a lecture on genetics, you git. Just hand her over." She reached out and made grabby motions, which Sherlock eyed doubtfully. "Come on, I won't drop her. And you need both hands to look up that info, yeah? More efficient that way?"

Faced with that sort of impeccable logic, Sherlock could do nothing but nod, reluctantly handing his goddaughter over to the police officer. He and Sally still kept only a cool sort of detente between them in most interactions, but he'd noticed her visibly thawing whenever Isabelle was in the flat with him. Interesting.

However, he knew well enough to leave his deductions as to her personal longing for a child of her own to himself.


	16. Babysitting

_A/N: As usual, I own nothing. As always, thank you for reading/reviewing/following. As a friendly reminder, these stories are not posted in chronological order!_

* * *

A rather harried looking Mary said to John, "Tell me again why we agreed to do this?"

"Because," her spouse replied through gritted teeth as he finally corralled Edmund and lifted the screaming, kicking toddler into his arms, "Sherlock and Molly needed some time for themselves, and since they, ungh," he grunted as Edmund's flailing legs caught him in the midsection, thankfully not anywhere lower or Izzy might end up an only child, "did the same for us after Izzy was born."

"Yeah, but next time I think we'll let Mycroft do the honors," was Mary's tart reply as she adroitly plucked Edmund from her husband's arms and tried to place him back into his cot. Izzy and Scarlett were both bouncing up and down excitedly at the sight of the other child's tantrum, but thankfully neither girl seemed inclined to join him. Even his twin, who normally empathy-cried when her brother had a meltdown like this, seemed too fascinated by the show to even think of joining in.

"Deal," John replied, then let loose a string of expletives as Edmund finally connected with a crucial area of the male anatomy and with a mighty heave, slithered out of Mary's arms while she was still a bit shell-shocked at the sight of her husband kneeling on the floor, groaning and cupping his private parts in obvious pain.

"No bed!" Edmund shrieked and scarpered out the door.

"No bed, no bed!" Izzy and Scarlett started chanting in unison, still bouncing excitedly and holding onto the railing of the cot they were sharing.

"Bed for everyone!" John roared, his expression promising bloody murder as he staggered to his feet and once again gave chase to his godson. Mary stayed with the girls, having no doubt that her escape-artist daughter would find some way to flee the cot, Scarlett giggling right along with her, if she left them alone long enough to help John with Edmund.

With a sigh, she glanced down at her mobile, even pulled it out of her pocket and hesitated a long, long minute before sighing again and shoving it back out of sight. "No," she muttered, running a hand along her sweaty brow and shoving her bedraggled blonde locks off her forehead. "We promised them two days. Two full days unless there was some kind of an emer…"

The sound of a crash and another fussilade of John's curses from the living room broke her train of thought; sternly telling Izzy and Scarlett to stay where they were, she rushed out of the room, followed by the rising voices of the two girls, Scarlett still chanting "No bed" and Isabelle now hysterically screaming "Daddy owie! Daddy owie!"

In the midst of the chaos, while Mary attempted to soothe Edmund and John snarled and grumbled his way to the kitchen to grab the dustpan and brush to clean up the lamp Edmund had knocked over, no one noticed the front door quietly opening, or the two stunned visitors staring at the wreckage as they slipped inside.

The sound of the door closing, however, caught Mary's attention, just as Edmund apparently noticed the newcomers. "Mumma! Mumma! Want you! Dadda!" he cried out piteously, as if Mary was torturing him instead of trying to calm him down. Rather than fight it, she simply released him and let him run to his mother's waiting arms. Molly's expression was apologetic as she stooped down to gather up her son, Sherlock's faintly amused, and Mary simply pointed to the bedroom, where Scarlett and Isabelle's howls had escalated.

"We, um, decided to come back early," Molly ventured as Edmund finally started calming down, his thumb firmly in his mouth, and Sherlock obediently headed for the two girls. "I'm so sorry, Mary, I had no idea they'd give you so much trouble! When Isabelle stays over they're all good as gold, I swear!"

Mary gave her a tired smile. "It's all right, Molly. They just missed you. We should've had the twins over for sleepovers before this to get them used to the idea, but someone…" she glared daggers at Sherlock as he entered the room, a todder clutched in each arm, both little girls beaming as if they'd never been working themselves up to hysterics only a minute earlier. "_Someone_ kept insisting on having Isabelle over and finding excuses not to leave the twins here instead."

Sherlock didn't even look remorseful, merely grinned and kissed each of his girls — his daughter and his goddaughter — on the tops of their respectively auburn and blonde heads. "Can I help it if they prefer my company? Besides," he added complacently, "Don't pretend you and John didn't enjoy those extra nights off."

"Oh, lovely, of course you're back early," John said as he finally emerged from the kitchen, where it was obvious he'd taken a quick drink before grabbing the dustpan and brush he now held in one hand. "Come to gloat about what a hard time we've been having, trying to get the kids to bed?"

Sherlock finally looked somewhat uncomfortable, his eyes seeking out Molly's. Who merely grinned and shook her head before responding to John, "No, nothing like that. Let's just say that SOMEBODY missed the twins so much that SOMEBODY insisted we head home early."

Mary smirked, and John guffawed. All three children joined in the merriment while Sherlock gave Molly a look of betrayal. "You're my wife, Molly," he sniffed. "You're supposed to back me up, not throw me to the wolves."

She wrinkled her nose at him and kissed Edmund on the top of his head. "Sorry, love, you're on your own this time. I was perfectly content to stay for the night. And since I'm betting Eddie here has something to do with that broken lamp, maybe you should help John clean up while Mary and I settle the children into bed. Come on lovies," she added to Scarlett and Isabelle, nestled so trustingly in Sherlock's arms. "Time for bed. Aunt Mary and I will read you a story if you promise to be good."

"Promise!" Izzy sang out, with Scarlett's lisping echo of "Pwomise!" following close behind. Edmund, it would seem, had already contrived to fall asleep in his mother's arms, and now that the chief troublemaker was out of the picture, the two girls quickly followed.

After the promised story, of course.


	17. Comfort

_Neverland8 said: Hi, I'm too lazy to log in, and I have a story prompt, if you don't mind. John and Mary announce that they're expecting another baby. After sulking for weeks, Izzy finally confides in her Uncle Sherlock that she feels she's being replaced._

_Slightly tweaked but pretty darn close. Enjoy!_

* * *

"Isabelle Marie Watson, you come out from under that desk right now!"

"Don't wanna!"

Sherlock sighed and got on his hands and knees, peering through the legs of the chair at his pouting god-daughter. "Really, Isabelle, there's no way I can fit in there with you, and there's no way I'm talking to you through the legs of this chair. You need to come out before Aunt Molly and the twins get home; you don't want to let them see you acting like a baby, do you?"

Something about the way she reacted to his words alerted him as to the nature of her current upset; Sherlock gently pushed the chair aside and lay flat on the floor, chin resting on his hands as he gazed thoughtfully at his god-daughter. Her blue eyes were watery and sad, her golden curls a tangled mess, and her cheeks were red. There were also the telltale signs of thumbsucking, a habit the almost-four-year-old reverted to only in moments of severe stress. "Tell me about it, Izzy," Sherlock said softly, keeping his voice low and soothing but not at all condescending.

She looked at him, looked away, hugged her knees to her chest, and finally burst into a heartbroken wail. "Mummy an' Dada are havin' anover baby an' they won't want me anymore!"

Sherlock mentally nodded; yep, exactly as he'd feared. With a sigh he rolled over and held his arms out; Izzy wasted no time in clambering from beneath the desk and hurling herself into his embrace, sobbing loudly.

With a bit of shuffling and some grunting on his part - Izzy was a solid little girl - Sherlock maneuvered the two of them so that she was curled on his lap and he was braced against the side of the desk with his legs crossed beneath him. He let her cry for a few minutes, stroking a soothing hand down the back of her neck and waiting for the tears to recede a bit before finally speaking to her again.

"When Scarlett and Edmund were born, you tried to hide them in a cupboard," he said with a reminiscent chuckle.

Izzy gazed at him, wide-eyed. "I did?"

Sherlock nodded. "Oh yes, you did. You couldn't wait for 'your babies' to be born, and when they got here, you were so afraid they would take up all our time that you wanted nothing more than for them to be gone."

Izzy frowned. "I was naughty," she said solemnly. "Bad Izzy."

Sherlock dropped a reassuring kiss on her head. "No, you were just a bit afraid, like you are now. But you know that Aunt Molly and I love you just as much as we do Scarlett and Edmund, right?"

Izzy nodded so hard that some of the tears that had been coating her cheeks went flying. "An I love them," she replied confidentally. "Me an' Eddie's gunna get married when we're bigger."

Sherlock had his doubts about that, but wisely kept them to himself; he was trying to calm his god-daughter down, after all, not get her more upset about something that was nothing more than a childish fancy she'd grow out of soon enough. "Er, yes," was all he said. "But the point is, you love them, and we love you; and Aunt Molly and I managed to love two babies at the same time, so why do you think your Mum and Dad won't be able to do the same?"

"Dada's not as smart as you, Unca Lock," Izzy replied doubtfully. "What if he forgets he has a big girl when the baby gets here?"

"Don't worry, your mum would never let that happen," Sherlock said, his words a promise that Izzy appeared to take to heart; after all, she knew who the true heart of her family was...and which parent was the smarter of the pair.

His smug mental digs at his best friend were interrupted by the sound of the door opening; childish laughter met their ears, and the sound of Molly rather breathlessly admonishing the twins not to run. Her previous heartache forgotten, Izzy jumped to her feet to meet them, leaving Sherlock to dust himself off and stand up as well, although with quite a bit less gusto. He greeted his wife with a kiss and a hurried explanation, then proceeded to ensure that his three-year-old son and daughter - and their 'cousin' - had an excellent afternoon before John and Mary came to fetch their daughter.


End file.
